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“Walking in Time” by Karen O’Leary

Walking in Time

grandpa’s hour glass broke
years ago…
for him
time
stood
…still…
time
ticked on
at a pace
that left him silent
our hearts had bonded
so we walked
in love…
still
time

Background for this Poem:

This poem, while fictional, is born of the special bond I had with my grandpa. We often walked in silence, content just being together. He patiently taught me how to wash eggs as a preschooler, a task that probably took him twice as long. His quiet strength has been a model for my life. For those stuck in the past, time does stand still, but yet time still continues on. My grandpa is in heaven now but is still tucked in my heart.

Poetry form–Fibonacci

Author Bio:

Karen O’Leary is a writer and editor from West Fargo, North Dakota. She has published poetry, short stories, and articles in a variety of venues including Frogpond, A Hundred Gourds, bear creek haiku, Shemom, Creative Inspirations and NeverEnding Story. She edited an international online journal called Whispers for 5 ½ years. She enjoys sharing the gift of words.

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Lorraine "Nina" Hall is a writer who composes under a variety of pen names, each one specific to a particular genre: Amarine Rose Ravenwood is for her preteen, teenage, and young adult fantasy stories and feminine poetry - Saoirse Fae is for her fairy tales and fairy-tale poetry - Mina Marial Nicoli is for her children's stories and poetry - and Phoebe Grant is for her light horror fairy tales and her darker, Halloween-type poetry.
As The Literary Librarian, she is committed to supporting fellow authors in every way she can, from author interviews to poetry hosting, to providing space for book promos and book advertisements, to referring authors to services they are seeking. She is also a content editor, copy editor, and proofreader.
View all posts by Nina Hall, aka Amarine Rose Ravenwood, Saoirse Fae, Mina Marial Nicoli, Phoebe Grant

I want a glider when is time to go from here;
forget when I claimed to want a rocking chair.
I have no use for a big Morris chair to recline,
when days grow short, my imminent decline;
glider I choose, when comes my dooming day,
unless there’s a porch swing so I can fly away.

Michael Todd (2919)

Often, Karen’s poetry moves me to write in rhyme. She has long been an inspiration to many. This poem about her Grandfather caused me to miss mine, and reminisce, and I would be remiss to avoid the notion, to some, I am now their Grandfather!

You are such a treasure in my life. Thank you for sharing your poem born of mine and for the beautiful thoughts you shared. You are a gift in the writing community, encouraging others in their journeys.

Thank you for the beautiful display of my poem and the care you put into publishing the writers you share at your wonderful journal. I appreciate all you do for me and others. Wishing you the best always.